Blood Sisters(17)

Smiley Carer’s eyes rested on Kitty when she said that last bit. Why? Something was going on.

‘The local paper will be there too,’ she continued. Would you like to join in, Johnny?’

‘Can I sit next to Kitty?’ asked Johnny.

‘Hmm. We’ll see.’

Johnny’s eyes blinked rapidly. ‘I don’t want to do it if I can’t sit by her.’

‘Someone’s got a crush!’ (Scratch, scratch.)

‘Nonsense, Duncan,’ butted in Very Thin Carer. ‘You know it’s strictly against the rules for residents to be overfamiliar.’

But when she turned away, Johnny grabbed Kitty’s hand again. It made her knees feel all wobbly. How would it feel to be snogged like they were always doing in EastEnders? But then the actors always shouted at each other afterwards. Or threw things.

Johnny wouldn’t do that, though. He would protect her, like the good TV boyfriends did. Just look at the way he was smiling at her right now! Kitty’s heart began to float. Right up to the ceiling with its brown cloud stains. Never before had she felt so happy! Hummm! Hummm!

‘Kitty,’ called out Smiley Carer kindly. Quickly, Johnny dropped her hand. Kitty felt a pang in her chest. ‘Time for the dentist. I’m afraid you’ll have to miss practice.’

No! She wanted to stay with Johnny.

Kitty began to shriek. Really high. It was, she’d learned over the years, very effective in voicing disapproval.

‘If you don’t stop, I’m afraid we’ll have to send you back to the quiet room again.’

‘Don’t,’ said Johnny, blinking rapidly again. She did that too, sometimes, when she got upset. ‘It’s not worth it. I’ll still be here when you get back. And you’ll look really pretty with your new teeth.’

‘OK,’ Kitty said. ‘I’ll go to the bloody dentist. But only for you.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re saying,’ sighed Very Thin Carer. ‘But as you’ve stopped shrieking now, we’ll accept that as an apology. Can someone help me with Kitty’s chair, please?’

It wasn’t easy, but Kitty managed to turn round as she left. Johnny was waving at her and – wow! – blowing her a kiss. Kitty’s heart turned over. She could actually feel it doing so, inside her chest.

Yet the best thing was that once he was her boyfriend he’d have to protect her. So if the flabby-faced man ever came back, she could get Johnny to sort him out.

And then she’d never have to see him again.





9


November 2016


Alison


There have been no more notes.

Maybe, I tell myself, it was just a prank. Some prisoner with a warped sense of humour. Or possibly an officer who was winding me up. (Angela had warned me that staff sometimes try to ‘test a newcomer’s mettle’.)

Either way, I have put my fears to the back of my mind for self-preservation. It’s not as though I haven’t had practice. Instead I concentrate on the here and now. During the last few weeks, my classes have begun to fill up. That’s thanks to Kurt. He’s been advertising me madly. Enthusiastically running around with flyers. ‘My men’, as I think of them, are a loyal group. They seem to take pride in coming to my classes.

‘I’m learning lots from you, miss,’ Kurt said the other day.

‘I’m learning from you too,’ I say.

It’s true, in a way. Already in such a short space of time, I’ve absorbed more than I could ever imagine. It’s like navigating a whole new world. Communication, for example. Because of the ‘no mobiles’ rule, it’s notoriously hard to get hold of anyone, either inside or out. Some staff have ordinary phones in their offices, but not all have answerphones. The other day I needed to find Sandra because the key to the Education block is hard to turn. Her office door was locked. I had to resort to slipping a note underneath, explaining the situation.

How I love drawing out talent from these men around me! Talent that has possibly been lurking there for years but hasn’t had the opportunity to emerge. I like to think that my father would have been proud of me. Sometimes I even forget to cut myself in the evening. My adrenalin levels here are so high, always on the watch in case a prisoner does something, that I don’t have the same urge as before. Barry and his cat cartoons haunt me. I cannot look him in the face now. If only he’d stop coming to my class. But he’s become a firm regular.

‘Miss, how do I do whiskers again?’ he asks me this morning. It’s almost as if he knows that I know. Needling me. Wanting me to ask him how he could possibly have done something like that. Three children. Three.

‘Show you in a minute,’ I say curtly. ‘You’ll have to wait your turn.’

Barry looks distinctly peeved, but Kurt gives me a conspiratorial nod. ‘Yeah, listen to Miss Alison, old man.’

‘Miss’ is a label that all the men give female staff, even if they’re married. But Kurt’s ‘Alison’ addition shows an unwelcome familiarity.

I’ve purposely never mentioned my surname to my men. But I’m sure there are other ways of tracking people down. ‘Do you think Grandad is dangerous?’ I find myself asking Kurt as he helps me clear up. (Barry has just left, claiming to be on kitchen duty, but I can tell he’s in a huff because of my ‘wait your turn’ admonition.)